Home Is As Figurative As The Heart

I woke up the other morning without immediately opening my eyes, and for a split second I thought I was in my bedroom in my childhood home. The wall with the beatles poster was to my right, the dresser with the big, oval mirror was at the end of the bed and the closet was to my left. I could almost hear the birds that used to chirp in the tree outside the window and the clink of dishes downstairs as my mother put them away. And I felt at home. Warm and safe and comfortable.

All that in a split second.

Then I realized where I was. I was still warm and comfortable, but the safe feeling was gone. Not that it was replaced with fear of danger by any means, but I no longer felt home. Since I left my parents' house I've moved from apartment to apartment, mainly to get away from something or someone I disliked, but I suppose in a way I've also been looking for that feeling of home. I've been in the place I'm in now longer than I've ever been anywhere else but it is definitely not home.

Now I think about it and I know that I'll never be able to get that exact feeling back. It's a security blanket from childhood that I no longer need, despite wanting very much. I visit my parents now, and maybe it would be different if they still lived in the house I grew up in, but I don't feel like I'm home when I do. There is certainly the warmth and comfort and maybe even the bit of safety that I feel when I'm with them, but it's nothing like that feeling of waking up in that pink-carpeted, flower wall papered room.

Perhaps it was simply being cared for at a time when I couldn't have possibly protected myself. Perhaps it will simply be being cared for as an adult even though I don't need protecting...the knowledge that someone will be there, for me, with me, by me...It's hard to feel home by yourself.

My next home will be more about the fact that I own it (fingers crossed), than how I feel in it. After that, the best that I can do is recreate what I had as an incredibly lucky kid for my (potential) kid(s) and hope it's something they will remember for split seconds as adults to make them feel good. My search will eventually have to be satisfied by this new creation with a loving husband (fingers crossed) who makes me feel safe and warm and comfortable in a different way. I guess home is mutable, just like everything else. At this point anyway, just enough to keep me searching...

The Results Are In, I'm Still A Virgin!

I received an envelope from my new doctor in the mail today. A postcard with a picture of bright, blooming flowers was tucked discreetly in it. The other side read as follows:

Good News! Your test results were normal/negative.

(X) Pap smear was normal...
(X) Cervical cultures (for gonorrhea and chlamydia) were negative/normal.

The pap smear is a worry for all women no matter what, but gonorrhea? Really? I could have told you I didn't have that. Not that anyone in a Doctor's office would have believed me.

I flashed suddenly on what kind of card I would have gotten if the news was bad.

The News? Not so good. Your test results...well, you've got health problems sister. What have you been doing down there? Call us.